Something
by I.M. Brave
Summary: Jake never fully understood Dirk's fascination with the Beatles. Dirk never comprehended why Jake loved to hear him sing.


Jake never fully understood Dirk's fascination with the Beatles.

He presumed it was his friend's relentless over-analysis of lyrics that were written long ago, where the genre of rock and roll was revolutionized and civilization was gradually reforming. Or perhaps it was the enchanting symphonies that captured the boy's attention; after all, Dirk was always a music lover. Maybe it was that the group originated in Liverpool and was of English descent, an excuse used to map more common ground between them. But the most reasonable explanation was that the teenager, living so far in the dystopian future which Jake was certain he'd never witness firsthand, simply longed to listen to another human voice. It wasn't as if he hadn't; the duo had webcammed countless times in the past, but there were moments where Jake pondered over the well-being of his pal, and shuddered upon the idea of the world being mercilessly ruled by a tyrannical queen. Sometimes he wished that Dirk was only joking, but deep inside he knew that his longtime buddy wouldn't kid about an issue this severe.

On the days that the camera was recording and they could freely converse without fear of interruption, Jake would beckon Dirk to sing. The request would be met with a short rap session, abruptly cut by the English lad rolling his emerald eyes and groaning, followed by brief chuckle fits between the two. Finally, the Texan would comply with his friend's command, singing along to Strawberry Fields or Yellow Submarine, while Jake would laugh cheerily and happily chime in. They continued chorusing along to these ancient melodies throughout the day, purposely singing off-key and shrieking the lyrics to Helter Skelter until one of them succumbed to fatigue. There were days when either of them were preoccupied and missed the opportunity all together, or their vocal chords were still recovering from a prior day and they could only type the stanzas through text. Whatever it was, through orange colored words or hearing Dirk's signature Southern accent, Jake would always be eager to log into Pesterchum and see Dirk sing.

Dirk never comprehended why Jake loved to hear him sing.

His voice was nothing particularly special, rather simple and heavily affected by his Texan drawl, nothing compared to Roxy's strong alto and Jane's timid soprano. He wondered if his friend's obsession with his voice was due to the prolonged absence of his grandmother, the English boy recalling that she used to cradle him and sing sweet lullabies when he was fussing. Another idea was that Jake was too used to the teeming fauna of the jungle, screeches and clacks from the mighty beasts that roam his island causing him possible stress and would need to be soothed by the hums of another. But the one that the Texan related to the most was that Jake was simply lonesome, isolated from the surrounding world by vast stretches of water, and he only yearned to hear another voice, another human, another person in the same situation sing to him. He was concerned over his friend's welfare, being secluded on an island for years can do strange things to a man's head, but never really let the matter bother him too much. He had more important issues to tend to anyhow.

Usually staying straight-faced and tight-lipped, Dirk would always be inwardly surprised at Jake's demands for the other to sing, although the shock simmered over time. It was a regular occurrence now, the spiky haired boy leaning back in his swivel chair, rocking himself from side to side on the balls of his feet, crooning Eleanor Rigby as his friend pitched in with sour notes, the two usually erupting into laughter when Jake's falsetto would crack his voice. He loved it, he loved every waking moment of it, and regret would bubble in the pit of his stomach when he had to log off due to sleepiness creeping up upon his senses.

Most importantly, he loved Jake.

The boy was simply the personification of fun, keeping a cheery attitude no matter what, defending others and doing what he believed was proper. He was a brave teenager, facing the dangers of his island every living minute, wandering along the tangled vines that wrapped around sturdy tree trunks and the array of wildlife that openly explored the terrain, not to mention the ever present threat of Brobot lurking in the shadows. They were separated by years, possibly never to meet in person, and Dirk's gut always churned at the harsh reality that dawned over him.

Whenever Jake hadn't scrambled online and Sawtooth and Squarewave weren't pestering him tirelessly for a rap battle, there were long, silent moments where Dirk would sit himself at the foot of his bed, Lil' Cal draped around his shoulders, clutching the bright red Sendificator in his hands. The icy metal contrasted with his sweaty palms as he stared into the gaping mouth, almost calling him to stick his head inside, cutting it clean off and transporting it to an unknowing Jake. He understood that this was a drastic measure, and would only be used in a dire situation. Still, there were times when he felt absolutely desperate enough to attempt it, a suicide mission that would most likely fail.

And yet, he ached for contact, to brush his fingers over Jake's face, to trace his thumbs over the boy's calloused palms, to rest his hands on the other's shoulders and sing to him. The fantasies clouded Dirk's brain more commonly than before, and he deeply resented them. How he wanted to gaze deep into Jake's forest green eyes, trail the tips of his fingers along the curve where neck met shoulder, touch their foreheads together, their warm breath mingling together as he leaned in at a tauntingly slow pace, the duo slowly dancing from side to side in perfect rhythm with Dirk's vocalization, arching closer with each waking moment until their lips sealed together ever so softly-

The Pesterchum message chime snapped Dirk back into reality, the boy's eyes immediately fluttering open and gazing halfheartedly at the ceiling, recollecting his composure. Taking his own, sweet time, he lifted himself from the mattress, calmly strolling to the computer, seating himself down on his swivel chair and wheeling closer to the screen. Staring idly at the green skull for a moment, the boy's fingers hovered patiently over the keyboard, exhaling sharply as he begun to type with trembling hands.

-__golgothasTerror [GT] has begun pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at 6:12 -  
GT: Ahoy there old chap!  
GT: Its been quite the time since weve talked, right dirk?  
GT: Dirk? Are you there? I need to ask a favor of you!  
GT: Argh frig.  
GT: Dont tell me your dumb auto responder is going to now take its own sweet time replying to my messages!  
GT: Come on dirk, this is urgent!  
TT: Yeah man, it's me. In the living flesh.  
TT: What do you need, bro? Another supply of uranium? I'm on my wit's end here with that load.  
GT: No, nothing of that sort! It regards you and your talents, dirk!  
TT: …  
TT: You want me to sing? English, I'm flattered and all, but my voice is still recovering from the last time we did this.  
GT: Could you type it over text then?  
TT: Why should I, hm?  
GT: Oh come on now dirk, dont be such a blasted party pooper! Please? It would brighten my day to say the least!  
TT: In what manner, English? Go on, I'm all ears.  
GT: You are just so bloody frustrating and stubborn sometimes, strider.  
TT: Alright, sheesh. Calm your frazzled little nerves. Let Strider sing you a sweet lullaby that will quell your ass right the fuck down.  
TT: Ahem.

Your mind blanks instantly, frantically searching the depths of your brain, searching for a song that Jake would enjoy. After a long moment, it comes to you, your fingers gracefully dancing over the creaking keyboard, striking each button with precise ease.

TT: Something in the way she moves attracts me like no other lover.  
TT: Something in the way she woos me.  
TT: I don't want to leave her now.  
TT: You know I believe and how.


End file.
